Sometimes, in a marriage, everything you do as a couple clicks. Sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with my husband these days. He’s usually an attentive, compassionate guy and when I have a goal for the family, he supports me, but not lately.
He was out of town for three days this week, and usually I miss him, but this time I was glad he was going. He’s been working on de-cluttering the house for more than a month now – we’re drowning in toys and kids’ old clothes, yet every single weekend, he asks me what, exactly, he should get rid of. I told him what to trash at the beginning. I was specific. And the next week when he asked, I told him again. And the next week, again. And I’ve been as clear as I possibly can, but every weekend, the question comes up again. And every weekend I say the same thing. And, adding to the strife, the project keeps us physically apart, because, as any parent knows, it’s impossible to throw stuff away with kids around. We could be trashing concrete blocks and the kids would say, “Noo, I want to play with those!” So I take the kids out of the house and he stays at home and works on the project. read more
What happened to Halloween? It used to be my favorite holiday. I loved to dress up. As long as I can remember, I’d choose my costume on November 1st of the previous year. All year long I’d plan it, anticipate it. When I was young, I’d ask my mom to make it and she’d plan it along with me. As I got older and lost my mom’s services, I’d have to figure out how to make my costume – no small feat since I don’t sew. And my costumes were good. They were fun. And every year I’d have a great Halloween.
When I was young, there was, of course, trick-or-treating. In junior high and high school, there was egg-and-shaving-cream-sponsored vandalism. During college and beyond, there were parties. Sophomore year of college, my mom made me an “Addams Family” Cousin It costume and once I was on my own, I made an Oompa Loompa costume. In my 30s, the annual Parrot Head convention in Key West would coincide with Halloween. I went as the “Conjunction Junction” guy and Princess Leia in the gold bikini and had a blast, every year. read more
I hate being a food-allergy family. We resisted for so long, but we can’t resist anymore. My daughter is allergic to artificial colors. They make her crazy and self-destructive (See Dethroning the Drama Queen). And I just discovered that I’m allergic to corn. It was a huge contributor to my migraines. (See A Hill of Beans)
So now, like so many moms, when I go to the grocery store, I read every single label on every single product I buy. Or don’t buy. The other day I went shopping and I told my husband I’d be fairly quick. I only had seven items on my list. I was wrong. With the new regime, I had to read every single label, and reject product after product. It took me an hour and a half to buy those seven items. read more
“The problems of two people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this world.” – Humphrey Bogart in “Casablanca”
If you caught me on Tuesday last week, you’d have found me alone in my house, screaming like horror film ingénue and sobbing like the friend she left behind. At that moment, I couldn’t believe the horrible deal that life had dealt me and I couldn’t understand why my only hope had fallen through.
Let me back up a little bit. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it in this space, but I have severe, chronic migraines. When I say chronic, I mean daily. When I say severe, I mean they can hurt so bad that they make my eyes tear. On more than one occasion, they’ve made me cry.
I have been suffering from these migraines for about a year and a half now. read more
Good news this week. I went to the doctor because I’d been having some low-grade nausea and what I could only describe as hot flashes. I’d feel terribly hot suddenly and for up to a half-hour, several times a day. I looked up hot flashes and the description said they were sweaty affairs that focused on the head and chest and left you cold. Mine weren’t like that. My whole body got hot, I never sweated and when they were done, I just felt normal. So I concluded that I wasn’t having hot flashes. What I was having, though, felt a lot like morning sickness, so I started to panic. read more